Hold Me Close
by BlondMoments
Summary: A gift for a Secret Santa gift exchange. Quite a sappy one-shot between Alistair and F!Surana.


This is a one-shot written for my awesome friend, milkytwilight over on DeviantArt. We had a Secret Santa-thingy going on, and well… this is her gift. I considered drawing something but then I looked at her profile and thought, "I suck at pictures." So, a one-shot it is! Starring Alistair and her F!Surana, Arya. I can only write either tragic or sappy one-shots because anything else takes too much time. So I went sappy.

Enjoy, sweetheart! I love you! Sorry if I took liberty on your F!Surana… let's just pretend her personality is spot-on ;)

_Hold Me Close_

It was the same. Every night it was the same.

Alistair would hear her stirring in her tent. The nightmares. He had experienced them, too, after his Joining. But his had gotten better after a month of being a Grey Warden. It had been four months since Arya's Joining and her dreams seemed to only get worse.

Alistair knew that the dreams normally worsened during Blights… Duncan had told him that. Maybe it was because Arya was a Mage? Or because she was an Elf? Or maybe that she was a _she_? Alistair had encountered few Elven Wardens, and even fewer female Wardens. Maybe that all weighed in to Wardens' experiences after their Joining. Duncan had _not _told him about that.

In fact there was a lot Duncan hadn't told Alistair. How were they supposed to kill the archdemon? And after it was dead, what then? How did they make more Grey Wardens?

Arya screamed.

Alistair's skin goose-bumped from the sound. It was the sound she'd made when a Hurlock had slashed across her back with its crude, rough blade. It was the sound that made Alistair's heart stop. The sound he most feared.

She screamed again and was still thrashing, which meant her nightmare continued. Alistair sat up with a grunt and resisted the urge to grab his scabbard, an urge that was reflexive since danger was always upon them. But who knew if there would be something skulking around camp? Alistair grabbed his scabbard anyway and poked his head out the tent before emerging.

"Hey," Alistair whispered once he was outside her tent. Arya continued to moan and stir. "Hey," he said again, though a bit louder. "Arya, wake up." He tapped on the cloth tent, hoping she would wake up. It was no good.

Alistair looked around to see if anyone else was up. He didn't want to go _inside_ her tent… what if she weren't wearing anything?! Alistair blushed madly at the thought. Still, he couldn't let her go on like this. He looked around again.

Alistair put down his sword and covered his eyes with one hand, and slowly reached inside her tent, touching the ground and searching for her feet. Though he was already blushing, when his hand had found her foot he turned crimson. Alistair gently tapped on Arya's foot.

Arya sat up quickly and Alistair jumped back, stumbling to the ground. He turned scarlet from his hairline down to his chest and righted himself. He sat on the ground and faced the now-dead fire, and decided to wait until Arya had settled back in to sleep to head back to bed himself.

There was a gust of wind, and Alistair shivered. He had slept only in his breeches and with the fire out, the air was brisk.

Suddenly the wood caught flame, and Alistair jumped. He looked over his shoulder and saw Arya coming out of her tent. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her face was sweaty and she looked very tired.

"Thank you," she said as she sat down next to Alistair.

Alistair felt his ears grow warm. "You're welcome."

They sat in silence for some time.

"I'm always dying," said Arya.

"What?"

"At least I think I am. In my dreams I'm facing the archdemon alone. There is no one there. Just me. It's me and a dragon and a horde of darkspawn, and they're all attacking me. I never see the end of the dream, but I can guess what happens."

Alistair nodded slowly. "You screamed. Twice."

"Did I?" Arya asked, but her voice was distant. Alistair looked at her, and her purple eyes were focused on the fire before them. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I was already awake," Alistair lied. He didn't want to make her feel bad.

Arya pressed her lips into a line. "I always feel so alone in my dreams. Like I'm back in the Tower. Or when I'm in the Fade. I feel… despair."

Alistair continued watching Arya.

"In the Circle, we are taught that our dreams mean something. As a Mage, I can control these dreams and explore the Fade of my own will. But these dreams are wild, and I can't tame them."

"I think that's the taint," Alistair said.

"I think so, too. But we are also taught that our dreams are visions of what is to come, and I can't help but feel like that _is_ what will happen. That I _will_ be by myself, and I _will_ die and then all Ferelden will—" Arya choked and tears brimmed.

"I won't allow that," Alistair said firmly. Arya looked at his golden eyes. "I _promise_ you, you won't face the archdemon alone. I swear it. I will be there."

Arya swallowed and nodded. "Thank you, Alistair. And thank you for being here for me earlier. I needed that." A couple tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'll always be here for you," Alistair said. "I'm here now. Whatever you need."

Arya scooted closer and leaned her cheek on his chest, and Alistair's heart skipped a beat.

"I need a hug," she said.

Alistair sat frozen for a moment, with his arms in mid-air. _Maker, what do I do?!_ he thought. _'Whatever you need.'_

He cautiously lowered his arms around Arya and gave her a light squeeze. They sat there for a couple minutes, but Alistair didn't feel any less awkward. He had barely touched any woman before, and now he was hugging one!

"Do you, uh, need anything else?"

Arya shook her head. "Just hold me close."

Alistair swallowed. "Right," he whispered.

So he did.


End file.
